She could not help thinking of Capes. Unobserved, she knelt and kissed the threshold: for she knew what kisses were now. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation. ” She turned and fitted the latchkey into the door. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house.
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